


Small town boy

by Bill_Longbow



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, But more like overhearing "the deed", Don't copy to another site, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Homophobic Language, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, M/M, Mentions of alcoholism, Mentions of homophobia, Multi, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, POV Tony Stark, Panic Attacks, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Steve Rogers, Recreational use of alcohol, Running Away, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, mentions of bullying, mentions of child abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 15:42:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17921675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bill_Longbow/pseuds/Bill_Longbow
Summary: Wanted: Mechanic for car workshop, no experience needed. First six months only room and board, later payment in accordance with services rendered. No smoking, no pets. Start asap.When Tony sees the ad he packs his bags and runs away from his small town home all the way to New York. A place where he can hide that he’s the only heir to the Stark fortune. Where no one calls him names or hits him for being too smart, not smart enough, too gay.What he finds is a mechanic who might be as damaged as he is and a blond spitfire who tries so hard, but who can't seem to find the right buttons to help heal his friend. Somehow they connect, and somewhere along the line Tony feels like maybe it's possible for him to build a home, if not for that nagging fear of his past catching up with him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Finally done! This fic has been on my mind for almost a year, and has taken months to complete, and I'm curious how you guys like it. Please leave me a comment to let me know!
> 
> Huge thanks to Skye for cheering me on and helping me make this into a coherent story!
> 
> Also big thanks to Wini and Roe, who are my personal cheerleaders <3<3
> 
> I was lucky to get picked by the awesome [slippin_into_darkness art](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slippin_into_darkness/) who made [this lovely art](https://ibb.co/MPRhxqT/), go give them some love.
> 
> The title is inspired by this song by Bronsky beat.

Tony hunched in on himself as it started to drizzle again and a gust swept over the platform, whipping the rain onto his face. The move jostled his ribs and he stifled a cry, turning it into a curse. He angrily kicked a rock away. Stupid fucking train was late. Of course it was, everything moved at a snail's pace in this God forsaken part of the world. He sat down on his suitcase with his head on his arms, not bothering to further hide from the rain that had steadily grown heavier, there was no shelter on this platform. And wasn’t that an ironic analogy of his sorry life here.

He perked up at the sound of a train in the distance. Fucking finally. The longer he was forced to wait here the bigger the chance that he was spotted. He painfully hefted himself to his feet when the train came rolling into the station (which was a very generous term for the concrete platform with nothing on it but a sign and some weeds).

With a heave he managed to get his suitcase onto the train and in the coach. He gingerly sat down and pulled his cap farther down to hide his face. When the train started to move he sighed in relief and sloughed farther down in his seat. Finally away.

 

_Wanted: Mechanic for car workshop, no experience needed. First six months only room and board, later payment in accordance with services rendered. No smoking, no pets. Start asap._

 

He woke with a start when someone patted his shoulder. On instinct he curled in on himself and waited, holding his breath.

“No shoes on the benches, son,” a kindly voice said.

Tony sat up and mumbled an apology.

“Ticket?” The conductor waited patiently while Tony was rummaging in his backpack for his wallet. When Tony looked up to present his ticket the man hissed.

“That's a heck of a shiner, kid. You should put some salve on it.” He stamped the ticket while he talked. “And drink some water.” With a sympathetic wink he gave the ticket back and sauntered off, whistling out of tune.

Tony folded his arms around himself and stared out of the window. The landscape was going by in a blur. Dreary towns and bleak grasslands, everything gray and brown.

 

_Wanted: mechanic_

 

He had dialled the number on impulse. The voice on the other side was gruff, the tone clipped. Tony was taken aback when the man had agreed to hire him after asking only a few questions. That had been a week ago, yesterday.  

Since then a thick knot of anxiousness had made its home in his stomach. It was always possible it was a hoax, that when he came to the city there wouldn't be a job and a room for him, no gruff voiced employer. It could even be a front for something more sinister. Who knew what you could use young, pretty boys for.

 

_“You pathetic, little--”_

 

He shivered.

He had done his research. There really was a Barnes Garage on Lexington avenue in Brooklyn, New York, and it had been laughably easy to hack into its accounts. If it was a front they had spent a hell of a lot of money on making it look like a garage, going deep into the red. Tony approved of the tools and machinery they had, but didn't think it too smart to buy everything up front before building up a client base.

 

“ _Make sure to_ make _money before you_ spend _money…”_

 

Howard's lessons were drilled into his subconscious. All of them.

 

“ _What the hell did I tell you, boy?”_

 

He forced his attention back outside the window. The train was slowing down, so they probably came up to a stop. Slowly they trundled into a village with pretty houses and large trees. How many were living their lives here wishing they were someplace else?

A few people got on and the train shook as it started on its way again.

Tony had the route memorized. From here it would take twenty minutes and four stops for him to get to a bigger town, where he could board the express train to New York. Then another approximate two hours to get to Grand Central Station where he could get a subway into Brooklyn. He shivered again. He had been to New York before, of course, Stark Industries had a large office there, but that had always been with one or both of his parents, riding first class and being picked up by a chauffeur at the station. The idea of him roaming the streets like, like, like he was just anyone made him quiver in anticipation and nerves in equal measure.

He put on his headphones and pulled the cap down again, signalling he wasn't up for smalltalk. At the end of the carriage was a family with a little boy who rode backwards staring at Tony. His heart clenched when the boy’s father tickled him in order to get him to sit with the family, and the boy fell in a tangled heap in his father's lap, laughing loudly.

 

_“You're no son of mine…”_

 

Tony turned up the volume and stared stoically outside, biting the inside of his cheek as a distraction. He forced his thoughts to his upcoming job.

 

_First six months only room and board_

 

Barnes sure as hell couldn't afford an employee now, with his debts. Which probably was why he had so easily ‘hired’ Tony. How long had he been looking for a help?

 

_No experience needed_

 

Tony had made up a backstory of growing up in a rural community (truth), where he and a buddy had spent their spare time tinkering on old cars (half truth). He couldn't afford to go to college (true now), so he wanted to gain experience in a real garage and save up to open a garage himself one day (true). The best lies were as close to the truth as possible. Tony hoped Barnes was as talkative in real life as he had been on the phone. The fewer questions the better…

The train was finally nearing Tony's station, bumping and swaying on the switches. Tony got up and carefully made his way to the balcony, hissing when he bumped into a seat as the train abruptly braked. Almost all passengers got off and he got jostled by the throng, but he managed to get to a quieter part on the platform. He had to hurry to get onto the next train, and barely made it in time.

The express train had reserved seats, and he found himself sitting next to a girl about his age, with bubblegum pink hair. There was no way he could lift his suitcase in the overhead compartment now, so he offered her his window seat. She only shrugged and shuffled sideways until he could slump down into his seat with relief. The girl had a laptop and was watching some obscure manga with headphones on. Satisfied she wouldn’t bother him during the trip Tony settled down.

 

_“Do it again. Fags like that, don’t you?”_

 

With a start and a painful groan Tony woke. The train had jostled him against the arm rest as it trundled closer to Grand Central Station. The girl looked at him wearily, but he ignored her in favour of getting out of his seat and pulling his suitcase behind him to the doors. He loved New York. He loved the grandness of it, the dramatics of the large buildings, how old it felt, how he could disappear in the masses, and he stared out of the grimy door window until they came to a halt.

Squaring his jaw, he managed to pick up his suitcase and step off the train quickly. He followed the rest of the throng to an escalator and managed to find the subway entrance without much incident.

No one stopped to look at him. No one! He felt almost giddy about it.

The subway wasn’t too busy, and he snagged a seat, intent on keeping track of where they were and where he had to exit. He almost missed his stop when a group of Asians stroke up a loud conversation near him, but he staggered onto the right platform just before the doors closed behind him.

Cursing under his breath, he dragged his suitcase behind him on the stairs next to a broken escalator, until he reached the ground level. It wasn’t as busy as it was at Central Station, or as the parts of Manhattan Tony had visited, but the streets still were as busy as his hometown on carnival day. He tried to not look like a tourist by hiding under his cap and ignoring the people and buildings around him, instead of gaping at everything like he really wanted.

The walk took longer than he liked. His suitcase got heavier with every step and his ribs hurt so much his breaths were laboured. He had to stop a few times, but then finally, _finally_ , he stood in front of the nondescript door of Barnes garage.

 

_Advertisement! Investing in good advertising will always pay itself back, my boy._

 

There was very little that made the garage stand out from the other shops on the street. The fact that it was a corner building could be used to its advantage, but instead the windows were bare, giving a see through to a neat office with the garage space barely visible behind it. Only a simple sign with the name, an arrow and “entrance around the corner” gave a clue as to what the building was used for.

Tony followed the sign to a large open gate with a courtyard behind it. The double doors to the garage itself stood open, but there was only one car being serviced at the moment. The parking lot in the courtyard was empty as well, and there was no sign of Barnes or any other occupants. Nerves rising, Tony cautiously made his way to the garage through the open gate, going slow to keep the racket the wheels of his suitcase made on the tiles to a minimum.

“Hello?” He called out into the empty space, which was silent except for the humm of the air conditioning.

“Hello?” He tried again when nothing happened for a long moment.

A sidedoor that he hadn’t noticed opened revealing a large man, a few days worth of stubble on his face and his long hair in a messy tail by his neck. His plaid shirt hung open over a shirt of a band Tony didn’t know. He saw the sleeve of the left arm was pinned up and understood why Barnes was in dire need of an assistant, enough to just hire Tony without ever meeting him.

“Yeah?” The man was definitely Barnes, he was as gruff and eloquent as he had been on the phone.

“I’m Tony, I called for the add?” Tony resisted the urge to squirm as Barnes’ eyes traveled up and down to take him in, his face not giving away any hint of emotion.

“Sure,” he finally nodded and turned around again to the door. “C’mon, I’ll show you y’r room.”

Tony hurried after Barnes, pulling his suitcase behind him. The door led into a stairwell, which made Tony feel sorry for himself for a brief moment. He pushed it down, he was here and he was free and no amount of stairs could ruin that for him. Winded and sore, he made it to the landing, onto which five doors opened.

Barnes was waiting for him on the top of the stairs, looking unimpressed, but as soon as Tony was upstairs as well he pointed at the different doors. “Living room and kitchen through there, bathroom through there, and this one,” he walked to the door at the far end of the landing, “is yours. It ain’t large, but y’r free to make use of the living room if you want.”

Barnes pushed open the door to a small bedroom, just big enough for a single bed, a closet and a little desk. When Tony peeked around the corner he saw that the door hid a bookcase as well.

“Dinner is tonight at seven, grab something in the kitchen if you’re hungry before that. You have today off, but your contract will start tomorrow. Do you have any questions?”

Barnes gave him a look that made any questions Tony might’ve had die on his tongue, and he gave a terse headshake.

“Good. See you at seven.”

And just like that Tony was free.


	2. Chapter 2

Tony sat on his bed for a good long while, just absorbing the sounds of the city that trickled in through the window, and looking out of it after he pulled the curtain to the side. He was really here, this was really happening. It could still be a front for a human trafficking ring, but when Tony tried the door it opened without hesitation. He closed it again, not ready to give up on this privacy yet. He was used to spending time alone, yet it felt different here. No one cared about what he did today. No dark voice yelling for him to come to the workshop or office, no lavender scented notes with a request to join his mother in the conservatory. No glaring absence of either in all the time in between

Also no Ana and Jarvis. 

A sudden bout of nausea erupted in his stomach, which he recognized as a combination of longing and guilt. In order for his escape to work he hadn’t told them about it, and for a moment he regretted it with an intensity that made him double over where he sat on his bed until the nausea passed. He loved them like the parents he might’ve had if he wasn’t cursed being born the sole heir of the Stark fortune. He knew they cared about him too. They were the ones who sat by his bed when he was ill, patched up his scraped knees, and put ice on his bruises. They were the ones to read him bedtime stories, who gave him the Captain America doll that had somehow survived the purge of toys, and praised him when he had good grades. 

He had often wondered how his life would’ve been if he had been born Anthony Edward Jarvis. If he would’ve been accepted by the village youth, maybe had a few friends, places to visit on the weekends. It was a childish and foolish occupation.

 

_ Always with your head in the damn clouds.  _ Don’t _ make me repeat this. _

 

Rhodey would hand deliver a letter to Ana in person. There were too many ways in which a note on Tony’s dresser could’ve gone missing or fallen into the wrong hands. In it he tried to explain why he had to leave, why staying was so toxic for him it felt like a death sentence. How he longed to breathe and be free some place where he was just another face. Somewhere people like him weren’t beaten and ostracized. He thought Ana would understand, she knew.

Thinking about Rhodey helped a bit. They had agreed Tony would try and make a phone call at two p.m. today, and Tony resolved to put his things away before that (or else be chided by his friend).

Putting the few belongings he had brought in the closet and in the room actually made it look a little like home and less like an anonymous cell. Captain America proudly sat as a bookend, keeping his few vintage sci fi titles upright, a picture of him and Rhodey next to it. He didn’t bring too many clothes, he figured he would be wearing overalls mostly, so there had been room in his suitcase for the hand crocheted bedspread Ana had made him a few years back. 

 

_ “Stop coddling the boy, Ana.” _

 

After he was done he went in search of lunch. He carefully opened the door to the kitchen and living room, finding it empty. It was a nice room, cosy, and Tony was a bit taken aback by that. Somehow he had imagined Barnes in a barren room, with stainless steel furniture and granite surfaces. Not this. The room had a dark wooden floor, curtains in a soft green hue that matched the large sofa. One wall was completely covered in shelving, filled with books and foto's and knick knacks. Paintings hung on the other wall, some neatly in frames, others quickly taped to the wall. A large wooden table marked the divide between the kitchen and living room, half of it unusable due to piles of newspapers and other random stuff.

The kitchen was a mess. Dirty plates and mugs stood in the sink, the cooker obviously hadn't seen soap in a good long while and the garbage can was full to bursting. As Tony stood surveying the mess he wondered how he would accomplish even the simplest tasks with just one arm, let alone cook and clean. Checking the clock he pushed up his sleeves and set to work. 

He just sat down with a sandwich, the kitchen looking spotless - Ana would’ve been proud of him - when the door to the living room opened and admitted a small blond man carrying two large grocery bags and muttering to himself about stairs and friends who lived at the top of them until he looked up and spotted Tony.

“Oh. Hello,” the man said, hesitating for a bit, letting his eyes roam over Tony, the table and then the kitchen where the dishes stood drying in the rack. 

“Hi,” Tony mumbled, unsure how to act. This man obviously was familiar here, so he should probably introduce himself.

“You must be Anthony?” The man walked into the kitchen to heave the bags onto the counter and turn around. “Steve Rogers.” He held his hand out to shake, and Tony took it after a slight hesitation. 

“Tony Edwards,” he said and let go of Steve’s hand to get up off his chair. Steve wasn’t big, but he still looked down on Tony when he sat, and it made him thoroughly uncomfortable. Standing was only slightly better. Even if he was taller than Steve, the other exuded a self assurance and energy Tony was instantly jealous of. He didn’t know quite what to do with his hands now that he stood, and he hid them in his sleeves, in front of him, standing awkwardly next to the chair.

Steve took pity on him and smiled at him. “You’ve been busy I see,” he nodded at the dishes as he started unpacking the groceries. “Had a good journey? Here, put this in the fridge, will ya?” He handed Tony two milk cartons and busied himself with putting the bread and other packets Tony didn’t immediately identify away in various cupboards. “What a mess, I apologize in advance for living with Bucky, the guy’s a total slob, even before the whole, you know, missing an arm thing. Sometimes I think he’s just using it as an excuse to tidy even less,” Steve muttered with his head in the cupboard under the sink.

He emerged with a grin. “Just kidding of course. OJ?” 

Tony shook his head mutely and took his seat again. Steve was the exact opposite of Barnes, and it took some getting used to his chatter after sitting the morning in near silence. Steve shrugged and poured himself a glass of juice before sitting down across from Tony. “So, you’ve been to New York before?”

Tony didn’t know if it was a genuine question or just small talk for the sake of being polite. It didn’t matter, not really, he had made up a backstory and had to stick to it either way.

“I haven’t,” he answered. If he was to be a regular small town boy then the Big Apple would’ve been too far and too expensive to travel to. “It’s overwhelming,” he added, and didn’t really know why he had said this. It was true though, but he should’ve learned by now to play it close to the heart.

Steve only hummed and took a large sip. “You’ll get used to it, this actually is a nice part, lotsa folks who’ve lived here their whole lives. It’s kinda like a village,” he added brightly, like he wanted to comfort Tony. Little did he know that the last thing Tony wanted was to end up in another village where everyone watched your every move.

“Sure,” he replied noncommittally, and took a bite from his sandwich that he had abandoned the minute Steve entered the apartment.

“If you want I can show you around some time? Bucky isn’t really going out all that much, I’m sure he’ll appreciate it when I stop nagging him about it for a day and take you along instead.” The smile Steve gave Tony was pained, brittle around the edge, and Tony ducked his head to look at his plate. The offer was nice, but Tony was in no condition to either take Steve up on it, nor examine the hurt that was obviously behind it.

“Thanks,” he answered, darting a look at Steve before looking down again. Avoiding eye contact was one of the surest ways of being left alone.

And sure enough he heard Steve drain his glass and get up to put it in the sink. “Well, I’ve got some more errands to run, you know how it is. Nice meeting ya, Tony,” he greeted.

Tony hummed, pretending to be busy putting a piece of cheese that had fallen back in between the bread, he was so used to being as unobtrusive as possible. 

When Steve walked away to the living room Tony felt more space, enough to review his options. Steve was obviously important to Barnes, so it paid to keep him on his good side. 

“Steve?” He called after him, just when the other man had his hand on the doorknob, making him look back. “Thank you.”

The smile Steve gave him made Tony feel good about reaching out. Feeling better than he had in a long time he finished his sandwich and went back to his room. 

  
  
  


The phone call with Rhodey left him feeling hollow and down again. His folks apparently hadn't even noticed he was gone, but Ana had worried enough to call Rhodey and ask if Tony was there after he failed to show up for breakfast. Rhodey had delivered the letter immediately, and told him Ana was sad but understood. 

It hurt Tony to hurt her like that, she deserved better, and he hated she would be the one telling his parents, because they wouldn't miss him on their own.

Rhodey was curious about how he was doing, and he could truthfully tell he already had been busy and might even have made a new friend, which assuaged Rhodey’s fear a bit. His friend still ordered him to call back in two days, but then had to run to help his mom in the kitchen. Sunday dinners at the Rhodes were an elaborate affair, and Tony had always been welcome from the moment Tony had been stuck in a tree as a tiny tot and Rhodey had helped him out. He would miss mama Rhodes a lot too, and he knew she would smack his bottom before pulling him into a bear hug when she found out he had run away. 

With nothing to do but wait for dinner Tony laid down on his bed. He could just look outside and see another building from where he was, and he wondered who lived there, if he would meet them, if people here had the same troubles as he. Somehow he fell into a fitful sleep and woke groggy and stiff, his ribs hurting even more now after lying awkwardly on his side. Outside it started to get dark, and he could barely make out his environment in the dusk. Feeling with his hand along the wall he managed to find the light switch, and he made his way out onto the landing and into the bathroom to wash his face in an attempt to wash the residual fog of sleep away. It was the first time he had taken the time to examine the bruise, and it shocked him. He barely recognized himself in the mirror, with his eye black and swollen. 

 

_ Dirty fag _

 

He gingerly touched his cheekbone and hissed at the contact, no wonder he had slept in a weird position. He had probably snored like a bear as well. Luckily Barnes’ bedroom was on the opposite side of the living room.

He didn’t know what time it was, but he hoped he would be welcome to wait in the living room if he was too early for dinner. In the dark his own room felt like a cell. 

When he got to the door to the living room he could hear soft music coming from the other side, some sort of eighties rock if his memory served him right. Hesitantly, he opened the door a bit to watch, a habit ingrained in him from a young age, but the part of the room he could see was empty. He pushed open the door another bit and stepped inside. 

The room was sparsely lit with just one lamp in the corner, but the kitchen was bathing in light. In it Barnes stood working at the counter, muttering to himself. Tony couldn't see what he was doing, but by the sound of it it wasn't going well. 

Tony's first instinct was to retreat. Things not going well meant anger, meant-- Unconsciously his hand came up to touch the bruise, but instead of throwing whatever he was doing through the space Barnes heaved a defeated sigh, his shoulders slumped, and turned around to startle badly when he spotted Tony lurking at the door. 

“Jesus fuck, warn a guy, will ya.” Barnes wiped his hair away from his face with a shaking hand. “Seriously, kid, don’t sneak up on me.”

Tony had hunched in on himself, making himself smaller than he was, less of a target. “Sorry, sir,” he whispered, looking at a spot on Barnes’ chin instead of making eye contact. 

Barnes massaged his temples with one hand and sighed again. “It’s okay, you didn’t know. Can you… I’m tryna cut these vegs, but the board keeps slippin’.” He waved at the counter behind him, where Tony now could see a cutting board with chunks of carrot. “We can have frozen pizza instead, if you want…” 

When Barnes trailed off, looking forlornly behind him, he didn’t seem all that scary. Being down an arm must be tough, and Tony took a step forward, then another. He was gonna work with this man,  _ for  _ this man, he had to get used to being in each other’s space.

“I can help,” he said quietly to Barnes who had stepped to the fridge to peer inside, like if he stared hard enough pre cut vegetables would jump at him from behind the ketchup. He looked almost surprised to find Tony next to him, but nodded. 

“It’s supposed to be a stew.” Barnes nodded at the heavy saucepan that stood waiting on the stove, and now that Tony was paying attention it smelled deliciously like fried beef.

Tony guessed he didn’t have to chop the carrot too finely and set to work. While he chopped Barnes transferred the beef to a bowl and put other things on the counter to go into the pan. Onions, potatoes and garlic all went in, filling the kitchen with their smell. They worked in silence, and when Tony was done he took a seat at the table, not sure what to do now.

When Barnes put a lid on the pan he opened the fridge again and pulled two sodas from it. “Guess you’re too young for beer?” He said as he handed a bottle to Tony. Tony didn’t reply, just opened his bottle and took a sip. He would turn eighteen in just a few weeks.

Barnes sat down across from him, looking into his bottle for a while, deep in thought. Tony stared at a corner of the table and let the smell of homemade cooking transport him to Ana’s kitchen. Tony had spent an immeasurable amount of time at her table, with Ana bustling around him, roping him in to make dough or cut vegetables or whatever she was making at the time, listening to him tell about school and Rhodey or to his fantasy stories about Captain America. She always had some good advice, a hug or a treat for him, and he never left that kitchen feeling anything other than loved. Barnes’ table had the same sort of feel to it. The wood old and weathered, half of it filled with the random clutter of a household. It was a nice thing to have, a table that looked like it was used, and it made Tony feel a little bit better, a little bit like this could be his home too.

“So you’ve noticed I startle easily,” Barnes spoke up, taking a sip of his soda. “As you can guess I’ve not had the best of luck while serving.” He wiggled what remained of his upper arm. “Sneaking up on me can have-- nasty consequences.” Another large swig of the bottle. When Barnes put it down again he looked directly at Tony who avoided eye contact by taking a sip himself.

“I ain’t used to company, so we should lay down some ground rules. Okay?” 

Tony gave him a nod, and forced himself to hold Barnes’ gaze. 

“Allright, first thing: We knock when we enter a room. That’s the main one. Second: You can enter any room in the house, except for my bedroom. That clear?” Barnes waited until Tony nodded again. These seemed reasonable.

“What else we got… You can eat anything you want, but within reason, we both have to live off it. Workdays start at eight, don’t gimme that frown, it means you have a good chunk of the afternoons off.” 

Tony hated getting up early, night time was when he felt best. His brain was wired to be most productive after 11 pm. He could cope though. Maybe it was because at night the mansion was quiet, without anyone yelling for him, or demanding his presence. Maybe he really was a morning person at heart. The thought nearly made him chuckle. Rhodey, Ana and Jarvis would all faint at the notion.

“Sure,” he answered. If there was coffee he was probably fine.

“I think that’s the basic settled.” Barnes rubbed his chin, thinking deep. “Any questions?”

Tony had a million questions. What had happened to his arm? Why did he open a garage? Why didn’t he have a prosthetic? What was the neighbourhood like? Did he grow up here? And so on and so forth. 

He shook his head, though. “No sir.” None of this was his business. 

“And stop with the sir. Just call me Bucky like everyone else. You make me feel like a hundred years old.”   
  
“Okay.” He could do that.

With a nod to show he was satisfied Barnes got up to stir in the pan, leaving Tony to wait again. He hated waiting more than early mornings. He didn’t have a tight rein on the path his thoughts took when he had to sit idle. 

“I er, I met Steve?” He said to fill the silence. 

“Did you now.” Barnes, Bucky, took a careful sip of the broth and added some salt, not following up on his question, which Tony took as his cue to expand.

“He brought groceries.”

“Yeah. Fella’s afraid I’ll starve to death or somet’n.” Bucky turned the gas low and turned around to lean against the counter. “Did he say anything?”

Tony thought about the encounter, how he had instantly been taken by the blond in a way that had caught him off guard. “Nothing special. He seems nice.”

Bucky hummed. “You’ll probably see a lot of him. He’s here as often as at his own place.” He pushed himself away from the counter to sit down again. “Got a little time to spare, why don’t you tell me what you know about cars?”


	3. Chapter 3

They settled into a rhythm. Early mornings didn’t become any easier for Tony, but they were bearable, and Bucky drank his coffee as strong as Tony needed. Work was slow going at first. Word on the street was that Barnes took a few days in fixing your car, so he only had a tiny client base of people who didn’t need their vehicle for day to day use, who only brought it in for maintenance. So while insisting on having him start early, Bucky did give him space to tinker when there was nothing to repair, giving him free use of all equipment. Bucky would be working by himself on a beaten up bike in a different corner, declining Tony’s help as he struggled. Tony knew he was keeping an eye on him, and wondered if it maybe was some kind of test, but he didn’t much care. Whenever he put on overalls and could put his hands on any kind of machinery he was in his element. 

There was this drill that stuttered at high frequencies that he fixed, and a hydraulic press whose output he increased. After that he took apart every piece of equipment he came across in the garage, giving them a maintenance. When there was nothing to improve anymore he started to put together something that could help Bucky. He’d already given the cutting board rubber pads on the underside, and a ledge on the back so stuff couldn’t slide off it anymore, but what the man actually needed was a helping hand.

 

_ “There’s no money to be made with these daydreams, boy, stick to what I tell you to do.” _   


  
It was pure luck that business picked up. Tony was tinkering on his invention a few weeks after moving in, when he heard a yell and a crash, and he hurried outside, wiping his hands on his overalls as he went. On the street sat a little kid, sobbing next to her bicycle which was folded around a lamppost. Without thinking he hurried over, appalled at how people just walked around the kid without a second glance. 

“Are you okay?” He knelt down next to the girl, who held onto her leg. Her knee was badly scraped and he saw right away it needed some treatment, the wound was dirty with sand and grime. 

The little girl didn’t answer, only wailed harder in answer, and Tony was at a loss what to do. He never interacted with kids, didn’t know any, and he had no clue how to make this one calm down enough to talk to her. Luckily Bucky had followed him and knelt on the girl’s other side.

“Hey there, Tracy, had a bit of a tumble? Is that your new bike? I love the colour. Where’s your ma?” Bucky talked to the kid in a soothing manner, putting a hand on her shoulder as he spoke. She threw her little body against him, and he nearly fell backwards, but managed to stay upright and lifted her as he stood. 

“Her mom’s at home, it’s just around the corner, pick up that bike, will ya?” Bucky set off with the kid on his hip without waiting for a reply, but when Tony picked up the bike he saw the wheel was bent.

He hurried to Bucky to tell him he was gonna fix the bike first. When he had the bike in the garage he noticed that there was some space in the backpedal brake, probably what caused the girl to crash, so he fixed that as well. He gave the bike a nice clean up so it shone like it was new and had Bucky deliver the thing to its grateful owner. After that the repairs started coming in. Bucky had off handed commented that Tony was good with repairing just about everything - a comment which gave him butterflies in his stomach, unused to praise as he was - and people started to bring in all kinds of stuff to repair, from bicycles to kitchen appliances to, finally, cars. 

  
  
  


Tony was in his element. He didn’t mind working until late at night, in fact, it was a welcome distraction. The less free time the better, it meant less time to miss Ana, Jarvis and Rhodey. He liked being useful. But more than that, Tony found himself to be having  _ fun _ . Bucky was a skilled mechanic in his own right and learned Tony quite a few tricks, and in between work they found out they were more alike than one would think at first glance. They liked the same books, the same movies, they could be often found quoting things at each other. If only Bucky had a better taste in music working in the garage would’ve been perfect. As it was the 80s synthpop he preferred sometimes grated on Tony’s nerves. Steve commiserated with him, but had confided one day over lunch that there had been a time when Bucky didn’t want to listen to any music at all. Steve didn't add anything, but it was clearly a silent warning not to make a fuss.

 

 

**********

  
  


Tony closed his book and sniffled. He loved The Hobbit, but reading it brought with it the memory of Jarvis reading it to him, tucked under the blanket next to Tony where he was cooped up for a week with high fever when he was eight years old. It had been his first year at boarding school, and getting to go home sick felt like a treat, even if he felt like hell.

He wiped his eyes and slipped out of bed, shivering as he made his way to the bathroom. The days were getting warmer, but the nights were still cold. He hurried to relief himself before sleeping, eager to get back under the covers. He was just about to flush when he heard a low moan, and then another. He listened intently for another sound, until a thumping started and he didn’t know what to do. Bucky was obviously having sex, and Tony didn’t want to alert him to his presence by flushing, but he couldn’t just leave, could he?

“Oh Stevie,” Bucky moaned, just audible through the wall and Tony took a step backwards, bumping into the sink. Steve… He hurried out of the bathroom and into his bedroom as silently as he could, his mind a whirl. He sat on the edge of his bed, until he noticed his teeth chattering and he quickly burrowed under the blankets. 

He had moved to New York in the hope of finding like minded people, people who wouldn’t bat an eye at a guy liking guys (much less swing a fist), and he’d had fantasies about hook ups that left him sweaty and unsatisfied as he wiped his hand with a tissue, but how he would actually meet these men remained fuzzy and unclear in his daydreams. The fact that the only two men he knew here apparently were into each other left him… well, he didn't know how it left him. Jealous? He didn't know what to think of the fact that they never gave any inclination to think they were in a relationship. Were they scared of him finding out? Tony didn't know why that would be, other than them thinking he was homophobe. 

In the quiet of the night he could still hear the thumping, if he strained his ears, and he had a hard time not to. His mind conjured up images of Steve lying on the bed naked, legs spread wide to accommodate Bucky, his eyes closed as Bucky rocked into him, but Tony was pulled out of his reverie when he realised Bucky could never hold himself suspended with only one arm. Tony pressed his eyes shut, shame heating his cheeks. These were his friends, Bucky was his boss, he shouldn’t be listening in. But his dick throbbed against his boxers, and as the thumping sped up he imagined Bucky on his knees, face squashed against the pillow, and Steve on his knees behind him, holding onto Bucky’s hips while he thrust forward again and again. Tony quickly pulled his dick free from its confines, spitting on his hand before he wrapped it around and jerked furiously. He came with a muffled groan, biting his fist to stay quiet, his body jerking until he had spent himself over his fist and stomach. He wiped himself down with his boxers, folding them and putting them inside a sock to prevent discovery, and fell in a fitful sleep.

  
  


**********  
  


 

“Hand me that spanner, will ya?” Bucky came rolling from under the Lincoln to hold out a wrench for Tony, and he dutifully swapped it for the requested item. Old miss Cohen didn’t want anyone but Bucky to handle her car, which meant Tony had been demoted to glorified stooge. He would’ve been bored silly if not for the fact that Bucky was basically at Tony’s mercy, lying under the car as he did. 

“Thanks. And you’re wrong.” Bucky rolled back under the vehicle until only his ankles and feet were visible.

Tony twirled around on the stool, propelling himself with his feet on the floor. “I’m just saying you don’t give him a fair chance. He was the first, so of course things were more difficult.” He waited with a smile for the inevitable--

“He was an asshat,” Bucky yelled from under the car.

\--curse. “He was brave!” Tony countered, not even hiding his grin now.

“He was stupid--”

“He learned from his mistakes…”

“... with the charisma of a cardboard box…”

“... and was cunning, what’s not there to like?”

Bucky rolled back from under the car, just so he could glare at Tony. “I don’t think you can live under my roof if you think Archer was a better captain than Picard.”

Tony smiled back sweetly, this wasn’t the first time they’d had an argument like this. “Guess I’ll have to revert to your opinion.”

“Good.” Bucky pushed himself back under the car.

Tony counted to ten and rolled closer to Bucky. “What about Janeway…?” He grinned when Bucky hit his head and cursed under the car. 

“We’re doing a next generation marathon this weekend! 

Punk.”

 

 

**********

 

“Come on, come on, get the-- Noooo, fuck you, ref.” Steve could probably be heard yelling at their neighbours across the street. Bucky had put Tony on snack duty, and he smiled while he stirred the guacamole. He looked behind him to see Steve, decked out from head to toe in blue and white, waving a fist at the tv. Bucky looked on with a bemused smile on his face. Steve had forced a blue/white scarf on him, but Tony suspected Bucky only pretended to not care about the game to rile Steve up. 

When he was done he brought the doritos and dip back to the tv and sat down on the couch next to Steve, the bowl of doritos between them. He had tried to observe Bucky and Steve, how they acted around each other, but other than finding Steve at breakfast sometimes there wasn’t anything about their behaviour that suggested they were anything other than close friends. It puzzled Tony. There wasn’t really misconstruing what he had heard. 

“What the..!” Steve jumped off the couch and knelt in front of the small tv to see in the rerun if the ball indeed was out like the ref called. 

“Your tv’s bigger, knucklehead,” Bucky remarked when Steve crawled back onto the couch, muttering under his breath. Apparently the referee had made a good call this time.

Not taking his eyes off the screen Steve felt around for the bowl of nachos. “Can’t, it broke down again.” He tried to push three nachos into his mouth at the same time, looked down annoyed at the offending corn products that made him miss a second of his game, and stuffed them in one by one.

“Have Tony here fix it for ya,” Bucky motioned with his glass of soda, “kid fixed just about anything around here, think he can manage your tv no problem.” 

Tony felt his cheeks heat and he sunk lower on the couch slowly. He wasn’t used to being praised like this, in public no less, and he hoped the conversation would take a turn. To no avail. Game temporarily forgotten, he suddenly had Steve's full attention.

“You could? I swear the guy that fixed it last time conned me, and for fifty bucks as well.”

Tony wilted under the combined looks of Steve and Bucky. Steve hopeful and Bucky… he didn't know how to call Bucky's expression. Fond?

“I er, sure,” he muttered, anything to stop them staring at him. 

Steve broke out in a bright smile, radiant like the sun and just as beautiful, and Tony’s heart swelled three sizes to be the reason, but he ducked his head to stare at his lap. He had no right to think about Steve like that, Steve was taken and that was that. 

“I have to work tonight, but I'm free tomorrow after mass?” 

“You go to mass?” Tony didn’t mean to blurt that out, but he was shocked, what with the way Steve was having sex with men, or at least, with one man. He didn’t think staying in church was an option.

“Sure, do you want to come? Father Williams is always very welcoming to newcomers.” Steve looked at him with that earnest frown Tony had come to recognize as one of Steve’s trademark looks. It would sometimes transform into an angry frown or a disappointed glare, but so far Tony had only seen those aimed at Bucky. Uneasiness rose from the pit of his stomach. He didn’t want to disappoint Steve and have him direct that look at Tony, but he wouldn’t go to church. It was one of the few things him and Howard agreed on.

He startled when something flew past him and bounced off Steve’s shoulder. “You missed a homerun, Billy Graham,” Bucky smirked at Steve who picked up the napkin and threw it back at Bucky.

“Jerk.”

“Punk.”

Tony breathed a sigh of relief when Steve became engrossed in the game again. When he looked up it was to Bucky winking at him. He couldn’t help but smile back, and ducked his head. It was nice to have someone in his court, someone who wasn’t Rhodey or staff paid to keep him out of sight of his parents. He winked back and was pleased it made Bucky grin and roll his eyes. Content he helped himself to some nachos and enjoyed the rest of the game.


	4. Chapter 4

“Sure you can’t stay, Buck? It’s been ages since you’ve been here.” Steve looked at Bucky with a mixture of thinly veiled hope and resignation, and Tony felt invisible. He wondered what kind of toll exactly Bucky’s war trauma had played upon their relationship, and what made Steve stick around anyway. Steve could have anyone he wanted, with his looks and his attitude. With that smile of his where his whole face lit up. Jealousy surged through Tony at the unfairness of it. He didn’t understand how Bucky could just let Steve hanging like that, when Tony would jump at the chance.

Bucky pulled Steve into a hug. “Imma go and see Sam, you’ve been hounding me for weeks, remember? He’s got a spot in one of his groups and I… well. Listen carefully, ‘cause you’ll never hear it again, but… You were right.” Tony looked away when Steve buried his face in Bucky’s chest and hugged him tighter, giving the two men a moment of privacy. 

“Thank you,” Steve said, his voice a little rough, but when Tony turned back his impish grin was back again and he patted Bucky’s chest. “I’ll have this on a t-shirt, you know. With a timestamp.” He ducked just in time to have his hair ruffled, and he pulled open the door for Bucky.

‘Yeah, yeah, see if I let you eat all the bacon next time you’re at my place again.

With a wave Bucky was gone and Steve closed the door behind him. It was obvious a weight had fallen off him, making him look younger and lighter and even prettier than before. “C’mon, living room is through there.” Steve took Tony by the arm to half push, half guide him through the narrow hallway and into the appropriate room. “You want something to drink?” Leaving Tony he walked on into a tiny kitchen and peered inside the fridge. “I know Bucky won’t give you anything more exciting than coke, but I got these beers from a local brewery that ain’t too strong, want one of those?” Steve held up a beer bottle with a handwritten label. 

Tony hadn’t had any alcohol since running away, but before that he was used to such large quantities he didn’t think his liver would be terribly upset if he drank one beer now.

“Yeah, er… thanks.”

Steve just shrugged and pulled another bottle from the fridge and came over to where Tony stood waiting, so he had no choice but go first into the living room. It was barely larger than Tony’s bedroom at Bucky’s place, but the furniture was cleverly arranged so that it didn’t seemed too cluttered and the large windows made it feel bigger than it really was. 

Steve waved with one of the bottles. “That’s the offender right there. Think you can work your magic?” 

The tv was so old Steve probably was better off if Tony built him one from scratch, but the upside was that these old ones were easier to fix, probably just a loose wire or something. “Sure,” he shrugged.

Steve handed Tony a bottle and clinked his against it. “Cheers! I’ve missed watching the Gilmore girls,” he grinned and took a swig. “I’ll get you some tools, waddaya need, a screwdriver? Hammer? I’ve been tempted to use a hammer once or twice.”

Without waiting for an answer Steve walked away to rummage in one of the cupboards that lined the wall, leaving Tony to admire his backside and take a sip of his beer. It was good. A little bitter. He realized he hadn’t missed the taste of alcohol at all, and wondered what that said about being away from home. He felt grateful for the drink now, being alone with Steve in his own apartment made him feel wound up like when they first met weeks ago, and a little liquid courage went a long way.

“Is this a thing you need?” Steve broke his reverie by holding up a huge wrench.

“I might, since your tv seems to stem from the paleolithic.” 

The quip was second nature, but he was still a little startled by it. He had tried to keep his head down, to don’t make waves but blend in with the background. It didn’t come natural to him though, his mouth had a tendency to run away with him.

“Hey, don’t go hating on good old fashioned craftsmanship,” Steve yelled from where he had his head in the cupboard. He emerged with a screwdriver set and a completely random assortment of other tools in both hands. “You sound like Bucky.”

“I don’t sound like I first personally offended gravel and then swallowed it.”

Steve did a spit take as he laughed in surprise, and Tony couldn’t help but smile against the bottle in triumph before he took another sip of his own.

“Are you saying Bucky sounds like batman? ‘Cause I can picture him brooding on the roof,” Steve grinned after he wiped his chin with his sleeve. “You know this makes you Robin, don't you,” he added with a sly smile, looking Tony up and down. “You'd look great in spandex.”

Tony ducked his head to hide his blush and put his beer down to reach for the tools. Steve was content to watch him work in silence, and he stripped the back off the tv, starting with a clean up. Thirty years of dust seemed to have accumulated in the innards and Tony would indeed wear spandex if the guy Steve had paid for that repair had even opened the thing up.

“He wasn’t always like this, you know,” Steve stated matter of factly. It was obvious who he meant, and Tony was torn between continue working casually so Steve would keep on talking, and leaning forward in interest. He thought he had found the problem though, so he kept to his task, and only hummed in answer.

“He used to be a lot of fun, before he was deployed.” Steve sounded wistful and Tony peeked a look. Steve’s whole posture radiated sad, with his shoulders slumped, bent forward while pulling listlessly at the label on his bottle. Tony wished he could offer him some sort of advice, or a kind word or encouragement, anything, but he came up blank. 

“How long have you known each other?” 

Steve looked up in surprise, like he had forgotten there was someone in his apartment with him to hear him reminisce. “Almost my entire life.” Steve smiled down at the bottle again at the memory. “He helped me up after I got into a fight with some bullies on my seventh birthday, knocked one of them out when he threw a rock at their head with uncanny precision.” Steve looked up to smile at Tony. “Never went far without each other after that.” Tony gave up the pretense of working and he watched Steve’s smile turned sad. “Until he enlisted, that is.” 

Silence hung thick between them. Everything Tony thought of to say to try and comfort Steve felt hollow or cliché.

“Anyway, he’s back now and I’m not letting him out of my sight ever again. I’m contemplating giving him one of them GPS belts they use for Alzheimer patients.” And just like that Steve’s grin was back, his hurt carefully hidden behind it.

“I have a friend, back home. You remind me a bit of him.” Tony looked at the screwdriver he twirled between his fingers. He had felt the urge to share something with Steve, something of himself. A memory for a memory. 

“You must be homesick.” 

Tony instantly regretted his moment of openness. He didn’t want to talk about home, he didn’t want to think about home. Just the word itself gave way to a maelstrom of conflicting feelings of want, longing and hurt; mocking him with its implicit precept that everyone had one.

“I’m not,” he answered curt and ducked away in the television’s innards again. He should’ve known Steve wasn’t one to be deterred easily. Look at how long he stuck by Bucky.

“Why’d ya come here?” 

Tony raised his shoulders further in defense, but had to sneeze because he had practically pushed his nose in the dust.

“Sorry,” Steve said next to him, holding out a tissue when Tony looked up. “I won’t pry, just know you have a friend here too, okay?”

Steve looked so sincere Tony had to look away. People didn’t just offer their friendship based on what? A few shared meals and a fixed television?

 

_ “Don’t trust anyone, son. People will stab you in the back and rob you blind. Trust. No one.” _

 

He hid his face in the tissue and wiped his nose and wished Howard’s voice in his head would just shut up for once. He had come here in the express hope he would make friends, real friends, and still Howard was fucking him over. He was sick and tired of it, he wanted it  _ gone _ .

“The town I lived in was too small. Everybody knew each other and had opinions and it--” he bunched up the tissue in his hand, like he could squash the memories of being lectured, bullied, ignored,  _ hurt _ . “I didn’t fit.” He was surprised to see understanding in Steve’s eyes when he looked up, a look that mirrored Rhodey’s or Ana’s whenever he came home with a bruise or his books soaking wet after he retrieved them from a toilet, and it hurt more than incredulance or mockery ever could.

“Anyway I think I fixed this, wanna plug it in and try before I put it back together?” Diversion, illusions. Pretend you’re not here and when you can’t, pretend that you’re okay.

Steve reached out to put his hand on Tony’s shoulder and squeezed before turning away and plugging the cord back in its socket. The tv sprang to life, filling the apartment with fake studio laughter. Steve smiled, seemingly happy he could watch rom coms whenever he felt like it again, but in the harsh light of the television Tony could clearly see his eyes weren’t in it. Maybe he did understand.

Tony made quick work to close the thing up, and cleaned some of the tools while he was at it, thinking someone should give Steve a box to put them in. Behind him Steve had settled on the couch, and when he couldn’t delay anymore Tony joined him. Steve had brought him another beer and they toasted without words, their bottles clinking against each other and their glances meeting in silent understanding. With the tv off again the only noises came from the traffic just below Steve’s window and some humming sound Tony guessed was the climate control. It wasn’t uncomfortable though. As the alcohol started to create a soft buzz in his head his limbs felt just that tiny bit heavier and his thoughts didn't run rampage like usual. He probably should’ve eaten something, he had skipped lunch in favour of working on his surprise for Bucky. It was getting harder to hide the thing from him, so he only worked on it when Bucky was occupied someplace else.

“Have you been out yet?” Steve’s question came out of the blue, and Tony had to think before he understood what Steve meant. He had been out to the mall with Bucky a few times, and on Sunday he strolled around the neighbourhood, trying to get a feel for the place, but he hadn’t been out at night yet, not like he had dreamed of doing.

“Not really?” Hoping he didn’t sound like the pathetic hillbilly that he was. Steve couldn’t be too disappointed by this answer, the way he had formulated the question, but what he hadn’t expected was for Steve to sit up straighter with a happy smile.

“I’ll take you! I was thinking about what to give you in return for helping me, I mean, I can pay you, if you’d rather have the cash, but you’ve been here for, what, a few months now? And still haven’t been out on the town? You can’t live in the Big Apple and not visit a thing or two, Tony. So I was gonna ask you to come with me sometime soon anyway, but now I’ll pay for you as well! Make you feel like a VIP.” 

There was no way Tony could decline an offer like this, nor could he say no to Steve looking as hopeful at him as he did. But the memory of what he had heard that one night still was very fresh in his memory.

 

_ “Oh, Stevie…” _

 

“But aren't you… he flailed for words, “wouldn't Bucky…”

“What?” Steve raised his eyebrows in question. “Why would Bucky mind? It's been years since he went out dancing with me. If anything I think he will be happy I'm off his back for one weekend.” 

Tony tried to think of a way to formulate a question about Steve and Bucky’s relationship that didn’t involve saying, hey, I know you two fuck on occasion cause I overheard and jacked off to it like a creeper, but before he could Steve shot him a calculating look.

“We could ask if he wants to come too, if it'll make you feel more comfortable?” Steve’s face closed off at the statement, the eager look of before replaced by a carefully neutral one. 

“That’s not it.” Tony was quick to hold up his hands. “I er… I…” Really had no good reason to decline, this was an offer he had been waiting for practically his whole life, or since puberty at least, and this was Steve, who had been nothing but nice to him ever since they had met. “I don’t have anything to wear.”

The way Steve’s face lighted up again made the statement worth it. He must be a shit liar, with those large blue eyes and earnest eyebrows. Tony didn’t know how eyebrows could be earnest, but Steve’s were without question. 

“I can help with that! You’re not that much bigger than me. We’ll fix you up and have a blast, you and me.”


	5. Chapter 5

Tony had trouble focusing on his work all week.  _ Steve had asked him to go out _ and though  he knew it wasn’t a date it still felt a whole lot like it might be one. Could’ve been one, if not for Bucky. But without Bucky Tony would never have met Steve, which made this whole thing more complicated than his brain could process. And now he was here, standing in Steve’s small bathroom that barely fitted the two of them, in a borrowed dark blue button down while Steve was styling his hair with something that smelled like watermelon. 

Tony carefully didn’t move while Steve pulled his hair this way and that. It felt weird, being handled like this. He couldn’t remember when Jarvis had stopped fixing his hair, and after that only expensive hairdressers had cared about his hairstyle. Maybe it was a big city thing to help each other? Fuck if Tony knew. He kinda liked it, someone messing with his hair, and Steve was standing so close Tony could count his lashes if he dared to stare like he wanted to.

“There.  _ Now _ you're fit to come with me.” With a bright smile Steve stepped back and out of Tony’s view of the mirror. Tony blinked at his reflection. He looked… he looked good. Not like a mechanic without any money, but like someone you might want to go out with. Tony’s hair was long enough to start being a nuisance as he worked, but Steve’s product had made his natural curls come out, and he had combed them in an artful mess to the side, making some of them fall onto Tony’s forehead.

“C’mon, you have a beer while I get dressed.” Steve shooed Tony into the living room as he walked into his bedroom. 

Tony took the opportunity to have a good look around. There were a few pictures of Steve with a blond woman who looked just like him. When Tony moved closer he saw Steve was a lot younger in the pictures, and wondered what had happened to his mom. Steve never talked about his family at all. Next to a picture of his mom making rabbit ears behind Steve’s head was a blurry group picture, and next to that a picture of Steve and Bucky at a theme park holding onto each other’s shoulders, smiling so wide Tony would bet their cheeks hurt afterwards. Bucky was nigh unrecognizable. With his hair short and combed back and his cheeks and chin neatly shaven. He looked like a model. Young too. 

“That was just before he deployed.” Steve was suddenly standing next to him, and Tony ducked to the side while he brought up his arm to protect his face. 

“Woah, easy there, you’re as bad as Bucky,” Steve frowned in worry, holding up his hands to show he didn’t mean any harm.

Tony’s cheeks burned in embarrassment as he straightened, but he refused to look away this time. 

 

_ “Wipe that look off your face or I’ll--” _

 

“I’m his sidekick, remember?” With a force of will he pushed the quip out of his mouth, but when Steve grinned at him the tension was broken and he felt himself smile back involuntarily. 

Steve was looking incredible. He had combed his bangs carefully to the side and was wearing a blue blazer, matching Tony’s button up, that hid a sheer shirt underneath.  _ Sheer _ . He quickly pulled his gaze back up. His imagination did not need more information to work with. He did not need to know the shape and size of Steve’s nipples, did not want to guess at the colour since that was about the only thing the shirt kept hidden. Steve looked back with a pleased smile, and Tony wondered why his eyes seemed an even more intense blue, until he saw Steve had carefully drawn a line just above his lashes. He was stunning, and Tony’s brain short circuited at the idea that this man was going to be his not-date for the night. 

“C’mon, mechanic, let’s paint the town red.” Steve’s smile was warm and his hand strong on Tony’s arm, and Tony thought, fuck it, let's go.

  
  
  
  


The closer they got to the center the more Tony's apprehension made way for excitement. There were so many lights it was like the people tried to outshine the night sky and Tony fell in love with the city even more. Everyone seemed dressed to impress, checking each other out with thinly veiled interest where they were waiting on the subway platform. Steve drew more than a few looks and he knew it, meeting them with a raised chin and a smirk Tony wanted nothing more than have directed at him. Steve's confidence rubbed off on him. The way he was dressed, with Steve's shirt tight around his frame and his hair in a way he'd never worn it before was like a mask, a different persona he had slipped on to help him move through the throng with his back straight and his chin high. 

The subway car was packed, and it forced him to be squashed against Steve. The unfamiliar feel of other bodies against his, the warmth and smells they provided assaulted his senses and all added to the magical feel of the night, like he was Cinderella on her way to the ball. He grinned at Steve at the thought that this made the blond his fairy godmother, and the easy way Steve returned his smile made Tony lean into the other just a fraction more than needed. He must've imagined Steve's eyes turning sad for a second. 

  
  
  


The bass was pumping loud enough Tony felt it in his chest as Steve walked straight past the line and up to a tall man arguing with a girl at the entrance. As soon as the man saw Steve he completely ignored her in favour of smiling at him and bending down to hear him as they spoke. At some quip from Steve the man rolled his eyes, but smiled fondly and locked eyes with Tony. He returned his gaze with his most cocky smile and gave a sloppy salute. The man bent forward without breaking eye contact to say something in Steve's ear, making the blond break out in that mischievous grin Tony liked so much and nod enthusiastically. With a movement of his head the man indicated they were free to go in, but when they made it to the door the bouncer demanded to see Tony’s ID first. Steve looked over his shoulder as he showed his driver’s license, and let out a shocked gasp loud enough to be heard above the din of the music. 

Frowning, Steve took Tony’s hand and with a nod to the bouncer he pulled him inside and along a side corridor to the cloakroom. “It was your birthday two weeks ago! And you didn’t tell us!” Steve yelled to be heard over the music after he pulled Tony into a small alcove.

Tony shrugged and looked at his feet. He hadn’t felt like celebrating, missing Ana and Jarvis so much it hurt, but knowing his parents couldn’t care less if he were there or not. They had demonstrated this on several of his birthdays when he had been at home and hopeful this year might be different from the last. 

Suddenly he was enveloped into a fierce hug, with Steve’s arms wrapped tight around his shoulders and his body pushed flush against Tony’s. “We’re gonna celebrate tonight!” Steve promised brightly when he pulled back.

  
  
  
  


A sea of warm bodies moving together, with each other, against each other, ass against groin against ass, the bass their guide, and always the happy glint in Steve’s eyes to keep Tony from losing himself.

  
  
  
  


After what seemed like dancing for days Steve dragged Tony off the dancefloor and down a narrow stairwell to an ill lit space that served as a hangout spot slash bar. Literally hang out, because above the opulent couches and cushions strewn about on the floor were large hammocks, the occupants obscured by the way the fabric folded around them. From several Tony saw more than one set of feet sticking out, moving against each other suggestively, and he hurriedly turned his gaze away and back to where Steve was pulling him to the bar. They were in luck. There were two bar stools unoccupied, and Steve did this hop jump onto one that Tony probably shouldn’t find as endearing as he did. He slid onto the stool next to him and waited while Steve ordered something for them at the bar.

Tony hadn’t expected a huge pink cocktail with whipped cream, and even a lit candle to be pushed towards him, but that was exactly what the bartender did with a wink and a “happy birthday, man.” Next to him Steve beamed and toasted with his glass, which looked a lot more sophisticated and to Tony’s taste with its amber liquid and candied ginger garnish.   
  
“Happy birthday to you, Tony,” he smiled and took a sip of his drink, prompting Tony to take one of the straws between his lips and taste as well. It was horribly sweet, but also very good, and Tony wondered if he could ask the bartender for the recipe. His face must’ve been an open book, because Steve giggled and softly kicked Tony against his ankle. “Nice, huh? Sam invented it for my birthday last year.”

“It’s interesting,” Tony answered and took another sip. It was a lie, it was delicious but Steve looked way to smug about it. “Did he give it a name?” 

Tony didn’t trust Steve one bit when he could hardly answer with grinning so hard. “Spangles.”

“Spangles.”

Steve hummed and took another sip from his drink, looking at Tony from the corner of his eye and trying his hardest not to laugh. “Don’t startle when your shit glows in the dark the next days,” he finally grinned. “Sam spikes it with some edible glitter.”

That was… most certainly a big city thing and Tony liked it. He grinned along with Steve and bumped his shoulder. “You’re a tease, Rogers.” Steve’s look of sheer joy was worth some glitter shit in Tony’s opinion.

“How do you like it so far?” Steve asked, earnest again. The basement was insulated well enough they were able to hear each other without having to yell. 

Tony thought about it, taking another sip of his drink. He found the club scary at first, feeling awkward. The music was so loud he couldn’t think straight, it was stuffy, and his only prior dance experiences were ballroom lessons his parents forced on him when he hit puberty. But he realized there weren’t any steps, people just moved how they felt like it, and by copying Steve he soon felt comfortable enough to have fun. “Amazing,” he replied, just as earnest. He couldn’t wait to get back and dance some more, on the dancefloor that was so packed you always touched someone. It felt safe, in the semi dark, letting the music guide his moves.

“You had a few admirers, did you notice?” Steve smiled as Tony shrugged and aimlessly stirred his drink with one of the straws. He had seen some attractive men out there, but they all were accompanied by a woman, or several women, and if he was honest not one looked as good to him as Steve did. 

“And that girl over there at the other end of the bar, don’t look! Totally checking you out.” Steve nonchalantly took another sip and Tony followed suit, letting his eyes pass over the girl in question as he turned his head to look behind him. She was nice enough, but not more than that. Not worth the insinuation that he should go over and talk to her. He shrugged and pushed his glass away.

“Not your type?” 

Steve sounded like he was honestly interested in what Tony’s type was, something he hadn’t encountered in anyone other than Rhodey. Somehow sitting here in the dark with someone who seemed genuinely interested made his tongue loosen. The high percentage of the cocktail might've helped too.

“I’m not attracted to girls,” he answered, nerves spiking at giving the truth so openly, he had suffered the consequences for it more than he cared to remember.

 

_ “You disgust me...” _

 

Steve only nodded, and Tony could tell he was piecing things together. All the little snippets Tony had given about himself and his past fitting neatly into one big picture.

“Have you ever…” Steve trailed off, waving his hand to encompass just about anything, looking doubtful how to phrase his question.

“No.” Tony took the last sip of his cocktail and turned away, hopping off his stool. He didn’t want to think about any of this. The alcohol made him feel less. Or more, he wasn’t quite sure. Different. He didn’t have to try so hard to pretend he was okay with the buzz in his veins, and he wanted to go back out there, into that mass of anonymous bodies and just be. No questions, no explanations.

He stalked back the way they had come from, and was glad to feel a warm hand on his shoulder when he reached the door to the dancefloor. Steve had his back.


	6. Chapter 6

“Look what I got,” Bucky said, holding up a paper package triumphantly. Tony looked up from his laptop, frowning at the mystery object. It was market day, and since he started seeing Sam at the VA Bucky had taken to go each week. Usually early in the morning, even before Tony’s first coffee.

“Rubbers?” They had been talking about needing to replenish their supply soon yesterday.

“It’s pink salmon, caught fresh,” Bucky answered with a smile. “I’ve seen you lick your plate clean whenever we eat fish,” he shrugged, putting the fish reverently in the fridge. “Thought we could make somethin’ nice outta it.”

Tony blinked surprise, glad Bucky had turned his back on him while putting away his other purchases. He didn't know what got to him more, that Bucky had noticed what Tony liked, he never got the impression Bucky was paying overt attention to him and his preferences, or that he had taken that knowledge and bought something specifically for him. 

“I er, I know a recipe,” Tony offered. A casserole Ana used to make. Tony noticed it didn’t hurt as much to think about her as it first did, and he felt a vague sense of guilt about it. He should write them a letter maybe. 

The thought evaporated when Bucky turned and smiled at him, a happy one that resembled the one in the picture Tony saw in Steve’s apartment where he looked like a runway model. “Sounds perfect.”

Tony swallowed and nodded. Yeah. Perfect.

  
  
  


**********

  
  
  


“Sometimes I think you like being punched.” 

Tony heard Bucky as he came up the stairs from the workshop. Bucky sounded like he wanted to be amused, but was anything but, worry coating his words into something sour.

A hiss of pain followed the statement and Tony hurried through the door to find Bucky bent over Steve, who was sitting on a kitchen chair with his head tilted upwards. For a second he thought he was intruding on something intimate, but then Bucky moved to put something on the table, and Tony saw it was a bandage covered in blood. He quickly walked closer and didn’t even try to keep his voice calm when Steve came into view.

“Jesus, Steve, what the fuck happened to you?”

Steve tried to scowl at Tony, an expression ruined by how his eye was swollen shut. Bucky was cleaning a wound on his cheek, and by the way Steve held his arm around his chest Tony knew he wasn’t just hit in the face.

“Shoulda seen the other guy,” Steve huffed, then grimaced when Bucky dapped at his cheek a little harshly.

“Just one guy this time, Stevie? You’re losing your touch.” Tony sensed an undercurrent of anger in Bucky’s voice, and he wondered at what or who it was directed.

“Here, let me…” He put his hand on Bucky’s arm without thinking and gently pushed him to the side as he took one of the butterfly bandages off the table. Bucky didn’t protest, just took the bowl of bloodied water and moved to the sink, but Tony didn’t miss how tense he seemed, his whole body strung tight like a bowstring.

“He was harassing two teenage girls for walking hand in hand, Buck, I could’na just leave him to it, could I?”

Tony flinched bad enough to drop the bandage and cower, drawing his arms up and hunching in on himself when Bucky suddenly punched the bowl off the counter. When he lowered his arms he saw Bucky held onto the edge of the counter tight enough for his knuckles to turn white, breathing harshly. 

“You could’a asked for help, you could’a called the cops,” he said quietly before turning around. He was as white as a sheet, his face contorted into something unrecognizable. “He could’ve had a knife, Stevie, or a  _ gun _ .” Bucky stared at Steve like he could bore some sense into him, but Steve had that mulish look, his chin raised, not giving an inch. At least he had the sense to not argue, Tony thought as he stooped to pick up the bandage he had dropped. His movement was enough to break their standoff, and Bucky stormed away, slamming the door on the way out.

Only then Steve relaxed. His shoulders slumped and he groaned when the move jostled his ribs. Tony didn’t know what to say. He wanted to comfort Steve, tell him Bucky would come around, but he was also worried about him. He settled for smiling and putting his hand on Steve’s arm, like Steve did to him whenever he sensed Tony was in distress.

Steve smiled back, this lopsided thing where his eyes stayed sad, but when Tony squeezed his arm and moved to pick up a new bandage he softly kicked his leg against Tony’s calf. 

“Thanks, Tony.”

“Any time.”

  
  
  


They were halfway done with dinner when Bucky stalked in and practically threw himself into Steve’s lap, hugging the smaller man tight and whispering in his ear, making Steve nod and return the hug without question, even if it had to hurt him sitting like that.

Tony looked away and quietly made his way to his own room, feeling more lonely than he had in awhile.

 

**********

  
  


Tony listened intently whenever he went to the bathroom at night now, ready to go back into his room and wait Bucky and Steve out. It wasn't that often that they had sex, he only caught them two other times since Tony overheard them first, but whenever it happened Tony was startled by the intensity of the feelings it elicited in him. The first time he had felt nothing but embarrassment, shame and want. But now the thought of them together sparked something else. Something that felt remarkably like jealousy, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out what for exactly. Or who for. The date with Steve had exceeded all of his expectations. Steve was witty and kind and unfairly good looking. Who wouldn't want to be with him? But then there was Bucky. Hiding behind his scruff and long hair and gruff appearance was a man Tony never thought he would find attractive, but here he was. Bucky had a heart of gold and a sarcasm that matched Tony's own and Tony admired how he never ever gave up, a trait he shared with Steve. Or maybe it was only that Tony was jealous of this thing they shared. He was fed up with being alone and untouched. At least back home he had Rhodey to shamelessly cuddle, and Ana and Jarvis to give him the occasional hug. Here he treasured every clap on the shoulder or a nudge to move to the side, ignoring the impulse to lean into those fleeting touches. 

He tiptoed across the hall when the coast seemed clear. They had seen Steve off after dinner, but it didn’t hurt to be careful. He had just put his hand on the handle of the bathroom door when he heard a sound coming from Bucky’s room and he froze. Had Steve come back? He waited to the count of 90, but when no other sounds came forth Tony carefully opened the bathroom door. The sound came again. It sounded like a… whimper? Followed by a sob.

Ignoring his bladder Tony walked over to the door of Bucky’s bedroom and listened at the keyhole. Another whimper, followed by a soft “no.”

Tony bit his finger in indecision. He wanted to go in and see if he could help Bucky, awkwardness be damned, but it was against one of the two express rules Bucky had stated when Tony first came to live here. 

“No, please,” Bucky whimpered, and it was enough to steel Tony’s resolve. He softly opened the door; it wouldn’t do to startle Bucky, and peered inside. The bed was empty, but in the light cast by the moon Tony saw Bucky was huddled into the corner of the room, folded in on himself. 

“Bucky?”

There was no reaction other than Bucky cowering further. 

Silently Tony padded further into the room. He’d seen movies about people having nightmares, but his knowledge didn’t reach much further than ‘don’t startle the subject’. 

“Bucky?” He asked again in a soft voice. He looked around for a suitable place to sit and settled for the bed, setting himself on the edge. The creaking of the bed made Bucky flatten himself against the wall, his hand coming up in front of his face protectively. Tony almost reached forward when he whimpered again, a sound Bucky never ever should be making. It pierced Tony’s heart, together with how small Bucky looked now, in a stance Tony recognized all to well.

“So when I was small I was scared of the lightning. Not the thunder like regular kids, but the lightning,” Tony recounted, his voice sounding strange in the unfamiliar space. Bucky hid his face against his legs when he started, but Tony pushed through, hoping a thread to the real world was what Bucky needed. “I’d read a book I was way too young for, don’t know how I gotten it, might’ve borrow stolen it from Ana, come to think of it. Anyway, it was this book with European folk tales, not the nice polished fairy tales kids are fed, but the original ones, where kids are eaten and maidens are--” Tony bit his lip, maybe talking about the atrocities he only half understood at the time wasn’t such a good idea right now. He pulled one leg up so he could rest his chin on his knee. He noticed Bucky was looking a little less tense, and he pressed on.

“Ana used to sing me a song that helped keep the bad spirits away. And since it was  _ her  _ book from  _ her  _ homeland I believed her.” 

Tony smiled in the dark at the memory. He was scared of the lightning, but he had loved it too, because it meant Ana crawling into bed with him, running a hand through his hair and singing softly until the storm had abated and he was relaxed and happy and sleepy.

He softly hummed the start of the tune, cleared his throat and started again, singing the song again and with more confidence when Bucky lowered his arm, even if the memory made tears well up in his eyes. As a little boy he had let the unfamiliar words wash over him, only enjoying the sounds and cadence of Ana’s native tongue. Later he learned it wasn’t about chasing evil spirits away at all. Or maybe in a way it was, two lovers fighting and overcoming obstacles to ultimately be together in death. 

Tony only stopped singing when Bucky lifted his head and let it drop backwards against the wall, his eyes reflecting the moonlight. He didn’t know what to say now that Bucky seemed awake, didn’t want to move for fear of breaking this spell of peacefulness that lay over them. It should’ve been awkward, sitting on the edge of his employer’s bed staring at each other, but it wasn’t. 

“You’re sad,” Bucky observed, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Not always,” Tony replied with a small shrug, wiping a quick hand over his face.

“Sorry.” 

Tony shook his head in reply. He didn’t want Bucky to think he was the cause of his tears, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak of home. Not yet. Not when he still felt guilty for feeling more at home here than he ever had in his family home, and for not reaching out and contacting Ana and Jarvis.

Bucky seemed to understand. Or maybe he didn’t, but he didn’t press his point, just ran a hand through his tangled hair with his eyes still on Tony. 

“Thank you.” The smile Bucky gave him was small but sincere, and Tony had no trouble returning it as he stood to leave.

“Sure.”

  
  
  


**********

 

Another Saturday night. Another night on the town with Steve. He had picked up Tony from Bucky’s place on his way to the club like he did so every week. From the sounds from the living room Bucky had liked how Steve looked as Tony hurriedly changed and tried to comb his hair the way Steve had the previous week, cursing himself for forgetting to close the door behind him. When he came back into the living room Steve was sitting some way away from Bucky, but the way they both were breathing hard, their lips red and swollen, left little to the imagination. He didn’t know what to make of the way they both looked at him though, but he shrugged it off when they stepped outside.

Steve brought him to a different club. One with more men than women. Gorgeous men with gorgeous clothes, dancing in ways that made Tony’s pants feel tight around his dick. None could hold a candle to Steve though, who kept close to Tony, somehow managing to keep a hand on Tony the whole time. Tony was grateful for it. Some of the men looked at him like he was a snack ready for the grabbing, but thanks to Steve none came closer than to wink at him or offer him a drink Steve graciously declined. It sent a thrill through him, to be desired like this, but safe in the knowledge Steve wouldn’t let anything happen to him. 

It was almost enough to drown out the disappointment Steve came home with him but disappeared into Bucky’s bedroom.

He fell asleep with a pillow over his ears. 

  
  


**********

  
  


Tony looked up from his laptop at a loud knocking on his door. No one ever knocked before, assuming he just came out whenever he wanted to, so worry flooded him when he jumped out of bed to open the door. 

“Why aren't you ready yet?” Steve frowned at Tony, doing his best exasperated mom impression complete with hands on hips.

“What?” 

Tony looked behind Steve to search for clues, but all he heard was Bucky muttering to himself in his bedroom. 

“The trip. We're leaving at seven thirty sharp, I want to set up camp before dark.” With another stern look at Tony Steve marched back down the hall towards Bucky's bedroom, leaving Tony slightly perplexed. He knew about the trip, of course, but he had sorta figured it would be just Bucky and Steve going. Apparently not? He had been both jealous and relieved, looking forward to some time all to himself, while dreading it at the same time. He liked being around Bucky and Steve, who was around more and more. 

He resisted the urge to go after Steve and ask if they were sure, Steve’s message had been unambiguous enough, and turned to look in his wardrobe wondering what one took on a camping trip. 

He came down the stairs with his bag at six twenty five to a radiant smiling Steve. “I’ve never been camping,” he admitted sheepishly, instead of asking why Steve wanted him to come.

“Hey Tony!” Bucky greeted him through the doorway from the garage, before ducking into one of the cars.

“Something we’re rectifying right this minute.” Steve patted his upper arm. “C’mon, throw your bag in the car and help me carry the rest.” He jogged up the stairs without waiting for an answer, and Tony watched him go until Bucky yelled.

“Don’t forget the marshmallows! R’member last year?” 

Tony walked further into the garage, and when Bucky spotted him he actually clapped Tony’s shoulder like they hadn’t just seen each other at dinner not two hours ago. “Excited?” He asked with a gleam in his eye and a smile that made him look so much younger than usual.

“Yes?” Tony was feeling off balance more than anything, but Bucky’s mood was infectious, and the fact that they wanted to share this with him meant something he didn’t know what to do with. 

“Good.” Bucky took his bag and put it in the car with Tetris like precision while Tony went to help Steve get the rest of the stuff.

  
  
  
  
  


“There’s only one tent.” Tony felt the need to point this out. He even pointed with his finger at the offending fabric home, which didn’t look large enough to house three full grown men and their luggage.

“It’s only for emergencies.” Steve didn’t sound bothered at all as he pulled one of the lines taut, securing it with a peg. Tony had helped him put the thing up, fully expecting another tent to emerge from the car specifically for him. So Steve and Bucky could sleep in private. Without him. 

“Emergencies? Like, I don’t know, bed time?” 

Steve giggled and pulled on another line. “Hand me that peg, will ya?” Tony dutifully gave him the thing and stepped back.

“We’re sleeping out here,” Bucky declared, emerging from behind the car with a tarp. “Here, put that next to the fireplace.” 

Tony didn’t really have a choice but to comply, putting rocks on the corners and feeling like Davy Crockett as he did so. 

  
  
  
  
  


“Well.” Steve started as he wiped his wet hair from his face, smiling sheepishly. They had been ambushed by a freak thunderstorm in the middle of the night and had barely managed to put all their gear in the tent before the rains started pouring down in earnest. “Guess we’re sleeping inside this year,” he grinned and settled down, kicking his legs in the sleeping bag until he was lying comfortably, which happened to be pressed against Tony’s leg. On Tony’s other side Bucky was already lying on his side, observing them quietly. There was nothing for it but to lie down himself. He had no clue how he had ended up in the middle, in all the pushing and shoving to get their stuff inside. He had wanted to go and sleep in the car, but Steve had thrown his sleeping bag at him and closed the zipper of the tent with a definitive snick. 

He shimmied until he was lying on his back, keeping his arms carefully pressed against his body as Bucky turned the light off.

“G’night fellas.” 

“Good night, Stevie, good night Tony.”

“... Night.”

  
  
  


 

Tony woke up being snuggled from two sides. Steve had plastered his backside against Tony’s stomach and Bucky had slung an arm around his waist. He took a moment to enjoy this. To pretend this was his to have. He knew it wasn’t. Bucky and Steve probably cuddled with each other in their sleep all the time, they didn’t know they weren’t pressed up against the other right now, but against him, an usurper. Someone they took in and had been nothing but kind to, and how did he thank them? By being jealous, by hoping they would split up and choose him instead. By jerking off to fantasies of joining their bed.

Behind him Bucky yawned and rolled to his back, and at his front Steve wiggled and stretched and vigorously rubbed his hands through his hair. Tony stayed as still as possible, waiting to be kicked out of their tent and their lives.

Nothing came.

He opened his eyes to Steve grinning at him. “Pretty awesome, right?”

Tony blinked in response while from behind him a sock came flying, hitting Steve straight in the face. “Coffee b’fore talkin’,” Bucky muttered. 

“Geez Buck, could’na thrown a clean one? Frecking wanker.”

“Language.”

“Language my ass, you know the camping rules.” Steve sat up and stretched again, showing a distressing amount of bare skin and dodging just in time to miss another sock. “C’mon, better brew him some poison before he throws his boxers.” 

Steve crawled out of the tent, followed by a bemused feeling Tony. Just before he straightened he saw Bucky give him a wink.

… What?


	7. Chapter 7

 

“Tony, c’mon,” Bucky hollered through the hallway. “The Serenity waits for no one.”

“Coming!”

  
  


**********

 

Tony sat up and wiped the sweat of his brow. Damn Steve and his habit to break his appliances. It was the microwave this time, and it wasn’t fair to blame Steve since it was obviously a manufacturing fault that made some of the wiring fuse, and they should be glad it hadn’t led to a fire. It was so bloody hot though. He had to stop his tinkering every minute to wipe his brow, and his brain worked sluggish, like he had to push all his thoughts through molasses. Why did Steve need a microwave in this heat anyway? 

“More soda?” Steve came sauntering into the kitchen to peer into the fridge. 

“Might as well, the screwdriver keeps slipping from my grasp.” Tony put down his tools with a sigh and stood to stretch. He took the bottle of coke Steve handed with a nod, and took a large swig. 

“I got the fan set up in the living room,” Steve motioned with his head and turned to walk back the way he had come from, drinking from his soda too.

Tony was now comfortable enough to drop next to Steve on the couch without giving it a second thought, and sighed in relief when the fan blew a warm gust over him, but looked sideways when he felt Steve’s gaze on him.

“What?”

Steve frowned in response. “You’ve never kissed a guy, have you?”

Tony’s eyes widened. Having Steve always speaking his mind was a relief to the backstabbing and the double meanings from back home, but this was something else. He knew Steve didn’t ask to hurt him, at least, he thought he didn’t, but why did he bring it up, and now of all times, was a mystery to Tony.

He shook his head. He’d never been anything but honest with Steve, within reason, it was one of the things he liked best about being around him, and he wasn’t about to feel ashamed he was an 18 year old virgin in just about every aspect.

“If you want to try it...” Steve motioned at himself and shrugged, leaving the offer hanging in the air between them like it was just another thing, like Tony hadn’t dreamed about kissing him in great detail.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Steve added casually as he put his feet on the table. 

Tony tried to keep his face as neutral as possible while his mind raced in a million different directions at once. He could do this. He could try and finally know what it was like to kiss Steve. It might help him get over this stupid crush he couldn’t deny any longer. Steve had started introducing him to some of his ‘friends’, but none had the appeal Steve held. Or Bucky; if he was being honest with himself he should be honest all the way. But he could see how his reluctance to meet with someone else could be seen as fear.

Maybe this was another one of those big city things. Where friends could casually kiss a friend. Maybe that was what Steve and Bucky were doing as well. Casually fuck? He’d seen things like this on tv of course, but he had always written it off as fiction, just like nerds always wore glasses and if you plucked a girl’s eyebrows suddenly she was prom queen material. It didn’t sit right with him though, doing this behind Bucky’s back, but he was scared if he mentioned Bucky Steve would retract his offer.

“Just to try?”

“Yeah, I was scared as hell when I kissed my first boy. I remember thinking I wished I’d done it before, you know,” Steve nodded with that sincere look of his that made Tony feel sure Steve was only trying to help his friend out. It was this look that finally made Tony do it. If he couldn’t trust Steve then there really wasn’t anyone whom he could. 

“Okay,” he breathed, and put down his bottle on the table. He didn’t know what to do with his hands now that they were empty, and he rubbed them on his legs, decided this made him look too nervous and squashed them next to his thighs instead. Steve smiled, looking a little surprised like he never thought Tony would take him up on his offer, and pulled his feet off the table to put his bottle down as well. Tony tried not to squirm when Steve scooted closer, but he obviously failed miserably, because Steve rolled his eyes fondly and punched his upper arm.

“C’mon, it’s only me you know.” 

Before Tony knew it Steve had darted forward to press a soft kiss to his lips and sat back again. Tony’s eyes had closed involuntarily at the contact, no matter how minute, and he opened them to see Steve watching him intently. Slower this time, almost too slow to follow, Steve bent forward again and brushed his lips against the corner of Tony’s mouth. His hand came to rest on Tony’s shoulder as he moved his lips over Tony’s. Tony startled a bit when Steve’s tongue darted out to wet his lower lip and Steve pressed closer, more insistent. 

He opened up and let Steve explore, moving his lips against Steve’s before tentatively licking back. It felt better than he had imagined it could. Steve’s lips were soft and plush, but he kissed like he did everything, with abandon. He cupped Tony’s cheek and all but crawled in Tony’s lap when he started to kiss back, both soon losing control over the kiss. Tony held on for dear life onto Steve’s hips as Steve kissed and licked and nipped and Tony tried to match him. 

At some point they had to come up for air, and they shared a slightly dazed look before Steve let himself drop off Tony’s lap onto the couch again. Tony tried to adjust how he sat, but there was no way to hide the tent in his shorts, and he blushed furiously, looking anywhere but at Steve.    
  
“So,” Steve cleared his throat. “That went… well. Let’s go with well. Don’t think you need to practice a whole lot.” He punched Tony’s upper arm again and laughed, but it sounded choked to Tony’s ears. “Wanna play Mario Kart?”

When Steve got up Tony darted a look and noticed he wasn’t unaffected either. His flush reached his neck and even under his shirt as well, and the way he moved made Tony think Steve had a similar problem as he did. He didn’t know how to feel about any of this. Maybe it was just the weather, it was that kind of hot. Tony was glad for the diversion though and stood as well.   
  
“Yeah… Imma just… take a leak.” He hurried out of the living room and let the water in the sink run over his hands until he had cooled off. 

  
  
  
  


The whole afternoon Tony kept shooting Steve glances, but it was like nothing had happened. As soon as Tony came back from the bathroom Steve pushed a controller into his hands and acted like he always did. Tony didn’t know if he was disappointed or not.

  
  
  


**********

 

Nothing changed. If Tony had thought that kissing Steve might’ve meant something, against his better judgement, it really didn’t. Steve didn’t change how he acted at all. Bucky didn’t change how he acted either, so Steve probably hadn’t filled him in. Tony tried to behave the same as well, but he couldn’t deny feeling some guilt towards Bucky, even if he had no clue what that thing between Steve and him actually was. On top of that he felt weirdly insulted his kissing technique hadn't made Steve jump from Bucky's bed straight into his, so he kept to himself the days following. He had a good reason too, the project he had been working on was almost finished. Building a mechanical arm had been easy, but programming the thing so that it could actually be of use was proving to be a challenge. One that he relished even if he had dubbed the thing Dum-E for screwing up the simplest of commands at the first try. It was getting better though.

  
  
  


Tony held his creation in his arms, wrapped carefully in a blanket, as he walked down the stairs. Dum-E wasn’t a big bot, but Tony didn’t think he needed to be to be useful. As he came in the garage Bucky was in the office, right where Tony expected him to be. Bucky was a man of rituals, whether born like that or made in the Afghan theatre Tony didn’t know. He was hunched over the keyboard typing laboriously with one hand. Tony had tried to get him to use speech to text, but the programs they’d used had trouble with Bucky’s drawl sometimes, and Bucky said it made him feel like an idiot. Tony might’ve started on writing a better speech to text program when he got overly frustrated with debugging Dum-E.

He tried to push down that churning feeling in his gut whenever he was alone with Bucky, or Steve, and walked over to the office.

“Hey Tony, forgot someth’n?” Bucky asked without looking up. The tip of his tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth as he continued to type in concentration, which derailed Tony’s entire speech he had planned. 

“Got you this.” He stepped closer with his gift, and Bucky finally looked up to blink at Tony in surprise. 

Tony carefully put Dum-E on the corner of the desk and removed the blanket.

“It’s a mechanical arm,” he clarified when Bucky kept looking at him like he had sprouted purple hair. 

“Dum-E, say hi.” 

Tony watched in satisfaction as the claw turned to his voice and did the approximation of a wave. He waved back, and pointed at Bucky. “Now say hi to Bucky.” 

The robot turned until its camera was pointed at Bucky and made the same movement to a flabbergasted Bucky.

“Didn’t your mama raise you better than this, Barnes?” Tony mock scolded him and he grinned when Bucky actually gave Dum-E this dorky wave.

“Tony…” Bucky started, at a loss for words.

“Figured you could use a helping hand, so to speak. I’ve programmed him to recognize basic commands, but he can learn more, anything you think might be useful. He can unlearn things as well, I’ll go over the commands with you. You know what, I should probably make a print out for you, can’t believe I forgot that. Anyway, you can use him here or upstairs. He’s heavy enough not to topple easily, but I’ve added these bolts, see, so you can secure him to a surface. His max lifting power is about 45 pounds, he’s sturdier than he looks, but you can’t have him haul entire engines. If you want that I can build you a bigger one, but that’ll take some time and some shopping since I’ve used just about any bits and bobs that were lying around.” 

Tony bounced to and fro on the balls of his feet as he delivered his speech, wringing his hands in front of his stomach as he carefully looked at Dum-E as he talked. This had been a gamble. There was a chance Bucky would be mad Tony had used his resources to create something that would only remind him of his missing limb and the horrors he’d been through. 

“Tony.” Bucky said again, and Tony looked at him through his lashes to discover wonder and awe on Bucky’s face, no trace of annoyance.

“I don’t…” Bucky got out of his chair and enveloped Tony in a giant hug, folding himself all around him and whispered “thank you” against his shoulder. Tentatively Tony hugged him back, a little tighter when Bucky pulled him even closer, before letting go and stepping back.

The smile Bucky gave him made Tony’s heart flutter, and if he snapped a pic of Bucky patting Dum-E’s claw it was nobody’s business but his own.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who didn't get the reference, the Serenity is the spaceship in Fire fly, they were about to binge watch the series again.


	8. Chapter 8

“I think we should tell him.” Steve sounded stubborn from inside Bucky’s bedroom. Tony couldn’t quite catch what Bucky rumbled in reply, and he didn’t want to know either. He closed the bathroom door as silently as he could and sneaked into his bedroom to hide under his blanket. Maybe Steve meant someone else entirely, Tony shouldn’t be as self absorbed. Steve probably meant someone else, one of their friends or something. Something totally unrelated to Tony.

It took a long while before he fell asleep.

 

**********  
  


 

“Look Tony, I’ve taught him to play fetch!” Bucky threw a ball from about five inches away into Dum-E’s waiting pincer. “Neat, huh?”

“Very impressive,” Tony looked up from where he was fighting a stripped bolt. “Useful too,” he added with a grin and bent back over the motor.

“Ow,” he rubbed the back of his head where the bot had thrown the ball with uncanny precision, but he couldn’t get mad when Bucky slung his arm around his shoulder.

“Think he can be our guard bot?” Bucky asked with a sly grin, and Tony elbowed him in the ribs.

“And they call Steve the menace,” he shook his head and got back to work, biting his lip to not smile at Bucky’s answering laughter.

 

**********

 

 

Tony immediately spotted the town car across the street when he got home from doing groceries. It stood out like a sore thumb in between the other vehicles parked along the curb. For one, all the windows were tinted, and besides that, the car probably cost more than the people living in the brownstone it was parked in front earned in a year. 

With trepidation he made his way through the gate and the courtyard, into the garage and up the stairs, in a parody of when he first came here. This time he didn’t sport a black eye and a large suitcase but ice cream, because he knew Steve was coming and they were out of his favourite flavour. 

He listened intently at the top of the landing, but all he could hear were muffled voices coming from inside the living room. Definitely male voices, so his hope it might've only been Ana and Jarvis quickly fleeted. 

He closed his eyes and allowed himself a moment to drink in the now familiar scent of the home above the garage, of the sounds outside that filtered through his bedroom door. He was gonna miss everything about this place. The warm, cosy feel of the various spaces. The way it felt like  _ home _ in a way home never had. The neighbours and their regular patrons. Even the night clerk at the seven eleven where Tony preferred to do his personal shopping. He didn't even want to think about how much he would miss Bucky and Steve. Just the mere thought of them vanishing from his life felt like a dark chasm he could drown in, and he steeled himself and pushed open the door.

“... be reasonable, we're both men of business,” a familiar voice said, bringing with it the memory of cigars and an arm around his narrow shoulders. 

“Absolutely fucking not. Don't know how many hookers you deal with on a day to day basis, but I ain't bendin’ over.” Bucky sounded calm. Calmer than his crude words would suggest.

Tony walked into the room to see Bucky nonchalantly leaning against the kitchen counter and Obie  in a similar stance against the kitchen table. Howard, the bastard, didn't even come to collect his wayward son himself. They both turned their heads as he walked in. Obie's face betrayed nothing, like usual, but Bucky looked… disappointed? Tony didn't stop and cower behind the couch like he wanted to. Instead he squared his jaw and walked straight into the kitchen to put the ice cream in the freezer. 

“Tony, my boy,” Obie greeted with fake cheer, and it made Tony's shoulders ride up to his ears.

“Don't.” Tony pushed the door closed and turned around, balling up his fists so tight it hurt. Once, Tony had thought Obie was one of the good guys, but that was before he didn't do anything to stop any of the abuse, even looking disdainfully down at Tony when he--

Obie held up his hands like he didn't mean any harm, which they both knew was a joke. 

“How much?” Obie was here to make Bucky an offer Howard and him had cooked up, something they thought a lout like Bucky couldn't refuse. Bucky had probably surprised Obie with his refusal, maybe even delighted him, and there would come another offer. Or maybe Tony had walked in on the second one and Obie was now gonna outline their threat.

“Don’t matter how much, cause I ain’t sellin’,” Bucky interrupted before Obie could respond, looking pointedly at Obie.

“James here and I were just having a nice conversation, Tony, no need to be so suspicious,” Obie smiled his snake smile. 

“Mr. Stane was just leavin’, is what was happenin’,” Bucky interjected, standing up straighter like he was of a mind to throw Obie out himself if he had to. Tony thought he could too, he had seen Bucky lift some heavy stuff in the garage, one armed or not.

“Very well. I would say it was beneath me to squash your quaint little business like the annoying bug that you’re proving to be, but I’m a man of simple pleasures.” Obie stood as well and turned to Tony. “C’mon, you’ve had your fun, the car is waiting.” He walked to the door, fully expecting Tony to just fall in line and follow him like the beaten dog that he’d been.

“No.”

“Anthony, my patience is wearing thin…”

“The guy said no. Now kindly leave my premises and take your threats with you.” 

Tony didn’t know how to feel about Bucky standing up for him. He didn’t think  _ anyone _ had ever stood up for him against Howard or Obie. At the same time it made his stomach roil in guilt and fear for his business as well. He stepped forward to put his hand on Bucky’s upper arm. A silent thank you, but also a warning, ‘back off, I got this’. 

“I’m not going back.” Tony felt proud of how steady his voice was, despite the way his limbs were shaking with adrenaline. “I’m not going back,” he reiterated, a little louder, and took a step forward. “And you can’t make me.”

Obie sighed, oozing ‘disappointed uncle’. One of his myriad of tricks to get Tony to play along. “I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this,” he frowned, slumping his shoulders for dramatic effect. It was amazing what some distance could do to your perspective. Tony didn’t know how many times he had fallen for this, fully believing it and feeling bad for making Obie feel like that. Now though, in the warm summer light of this Brooklyn apartment it was clearly just an act, and a bad one at that, and he didn’t react at all. He stood, confident he could handle whatever Obie would throw at him.

Obie pulled an envelope from his pocket and held it out for Tony to take. For a second he wanted to stay put, just to show that he could, but he thought better of it. Better have Obie leave as soon as possible. He walked slower than he would’ve had before, though, and by the raised eyebrow Obie didn’t miss it. He took the envelope, scared Obie was going to snatch him and pull him downstairs, but nothing happened, and he stepped back, holding onto the paper with white knuckles.

Obie nodded at the envelope. “As of this moment you have been removed from the will of Howard and Maria Stark. You are no longer heir to Stark Industries and the Stark family fortune. You are no longer recognized as the son of Howard Stark,” Obie intoned like he was reading a will. 

Tony merely nodded. He had thought as much. He didn’t care. He didn’t need the fortune, didn’t even want one cent of it, but he knew being penniless was one of Howard’s worst nightmares and doing this to Tony was the worst he could think of to hurt his son.

“Okay.”

Obie was obviously taken aback, but he would die before admitting as much. With one last long look at Tony he turned around and didn’t look back as he left the apartment.

Tony kept himself standing for as long as he heard Obie’s footsteps on the stairs. When they heard the door shut it was like his strings were cut and he sagged to his knees, feeling… empty.

“Fellas?” Steve sounded confused, but Tony didn’t have the energy to react to him. This was it. He was finally free for real. No strings, nothing to pull him back. He could call Ana and Jarvis now, let them know where he-- In all the emotional upheaval he had forgotten to ask how Obie knew where he was. He rubbed his face and startled when someone touched him, but relaxed when he realized it was just Bucky who put his hand on Tony’s shoulder.

“You okay there, doll?” 

“Can someone explain what’s happening? I walked into this man downstairs…” Steve had knelt down as well, on Tony’s other side, concern thick in his voice.

“I…” Tony couldn’t. He had nowhere to start. Didn’t know what parts of himself he had kept secret and what parts had been in plain view all along, or if it even mattered. 

“A ghost from Tony’s past thought he still had some power over him,” Bucky said, sounding thoughtful, and he looked at Tony as if for permission, so Tony nodded. He wanted to hear what had been going on before he came back too.

“This Mr Stane offered me a pathetic sum of money for my garage, but only if I would agree to fire Tony and send him back. I told him where he could put his money right when Tony walked in. He then tried to manipulate Tony directly, threw a hissy fit when it didn’t work and stormed off.” 

Bucky’s matter of factness made Tony smile. Put like that it sounded exceedingly stupid, and he couldn’t help but giggle, even when he felt Steve next to him tense up at the injustice of it all. 

“Don’t throw away your dayjob to become a script writer,” he grinned at Bucky, who looked pleased as punch, and not at all like someone who might well soon lose his garage after all. Tony didn’t think it would come to that though, Howard would get bored soon enough and forget about the whole thing, he wagered.

“Tony?” He looked back at Steve, and saw Bucky nod from the corner of his eye, like he was encouraging Steve to continue.

“We don’t want you to leave, okay? Even if you don’t need to hide anymore, which is what I’m guessing just happened. Stay. Please?”  Steve reached out and took Tony’s hand, and Tony’s heart, which had just started to calm again began to beat frantically. 

“Why?” He wanted to stay. He didn’t think he could leave, but he didn’t think he could stand being around Steve and Bucky and their relationship much longer either. So he needed to know. Why was it important for him to stay?

Steve darted a look at Bucky, who nodded again, and scooted forward to gently place a kiss on Tony’s cheek. A much chaster touch than the one they shared weeks ago, but it burned on Tony’s skin like the sun.

“Things are better with you around.  _ We  _ are better.” Bucky nodded his head in Steve’s direction, and squeezed Tony’s shoulder. “Things were… things weren't good before Stevie made me put up that add.” Bucky retracted his hand to wipe his face and Tony immediately missed the point of contact. 

“I'd half given up.” Bucky looked worn as he thought back to those days. Tony still remembered the way Bucky looked back then. Hair barely brushed in a sloppy bun, scruff thick on his face and hidden in large hoodies. It was a far cry from how he dressed now, in a linen button down, his beard carefully groomed and his hair in thick waves around his shoulders. 

“You gave me back the joy in my work, Tony, that is… that is huge. You helped me see I ain't so broken like I thought I was.”

Tony looked down at his hands at the statement. It was huge, but he didn't think he had much to do with that. He just showed up for work, didn't he? Bucky did the hard work with going to the VA and stuff. 

“It's true, Tony,” Steve added, and reached out to tangle his long, slim fingers with Tony’s, making him look up again. 

“You never once assumed I couldn't do stuff because of…” Bucky waved the stump, “when I was left feeling half a man.” Bucky reached out to take Tony's other hand. His hand so different from Steve's, larger, callused. “Never thanked you for that.” Bucky squeezed his hand and smiled. 

“First time I met you I immediately wanted to punch whoever made you hurt so bad,” Steve admitted with a grin. “You were trying to appear half your size, blend in with the background… but I know you cleaned that mess of a kitchen,  I saw all the little changes you implemented, added little things to make Buck’s life easier. Life hadn't treated you kind at all, and still you went out of your way to make someone else's better.” 

Tony shrugged. It was what people did, wasn't it?

“Don't you shrug at me, mister, you can't just shrug this away,” Steve mock glared and it made Tony smile. 

“Okay, yeah, I'll stay.” He had never noticed he played such a big part in their lives, or at least in Bucky's life. It was nice to hear.

There was some silent communication between Steve and Bucky, and Tony’s smile faltered. This was where they confessed their undying love for each other and thanked him for giving back that spark. 

Bucky cleared his throat, he apparently lost their telepathic rock paper scissors. “Now I know this pro’lly ain’t the right time to ask you this, what with the shock you just had an’all, but I…” Bucky faltered.

“Spit it out, Buck.”

Bucky glared at Steve, but Tony didn't know what to do with the look Bucky gave him,  which was soft and… nervous. 

“Stevie and I…” Bucky started. There you had it. Tony steeled himself and smiled. 

“I know. I figured out you guys were more than just friends pretty quick. I'm glad for you.” He squeezed their hands and tried to pull back, but both Steve and Bucky held on tighter. 

“Well, we weren't doin’ so hot either,” Bucky huffed, and Steve reached out to put his other hand on Bucky's leg. 

“It's okay, Buck.”

“It's not, and you know it. I had nearly succeeded in drivin’ you off,” Bucky frowned, sounding angry. “Reduced you to delivery boy and fuck buddy.”

Tony felt wholly uncomfortable being here for this, just like the other times Bucky and Steve had shown some manner of intimacy. He didn't want to know the details of their relationship, cause it hurt there was no room for him, and the confrontation with Obie left him feeling open and raw and not able to deal with this. 

“I'm glad you guys sorted it out,” he said with as much cheer as he could muster, pulling his hands more insistently. He needed some time alone. He needed to call Rhodey and Ana. He needed--

“You don't get it.  _ You _ are the thing that brought us back together, doll.” Bucky held tight onto Tony's hand. “ _ You _ are the thing that's holding us together too. We’re more comfortable around each other when you're here. You are the thing we talk about when you ain't around, you are the one we--”

Bucky finally let go and slumped a bit, taking a deep breath.

“This is a shitty timing, and Stevie wanted to tell you before, but I was afraid we'd only scare you, you were such a skittish thing, and I couldn't stand it if you left or pulled back into that shell o'yours, but we wanted to ask you if you'd give us a chance.”

Bucky looked at Tony with unveiled hope, his grey eyes large and piercing, and Tony had no idea what to do with any of this. 

“What?”

“It's not conventional, but not unheard of,” Steve broke in, squeezing Tony's hand. “Three men in a relationship.”

Tony swallowed thickly and shook his head. “You don't…”

“We actually really do,” Steve countered with that determined look of his, like he could convince Tony by the sheer power of his eyebrows. 

“But we won't pressure you, we just wanted to put it on the table.” Bucky smiled a smile that was more sad than anything as he pulled back. “We know you're comfortable enough around Steve, I had hoped…” He shrugged and made to stand, but Tony grabbed onto his arm. Being brave and jumping into the unknown had put him into this position, he could be brave again. 

“All three? You mean all of us… together?”

Tony needed them to spell this out for him.

Not fifteen minutes ago he was ready to pack his bags and find another place to live, certain Bucky and Steve would've been mad and disappointed enough to want him to leave, but here they were, offering the one thing he didn't even dare fantasize about in the privacy of his own thoughts, because it was too much, he never got that lucky. 

They both nodded at him. 

“If you'll have us,” Bucky added, his face a careful neutral again. 

“I want that.” Tony breathed. “I want to try,” he added, his heart beating a staccato rhythm in his chest. 

If he ever liked Steve and Bucky smiling at him,  it was nothing compared to the twin smiles they gave him now. Steve used the grip on Tony's hand to pull him into a fierce hug, and after a moment of  hesitation Bucky folded himself around Tony's other side. 

“You should kiss,” Steve declared when he pulled back. Both Tony and Bucky froze like deer caught on headlights. 

“I've kissed the both of ya, it's only fair,” he added, with that tilt to his chin that meant he wasn't going to drop it. 

“Ya can't just order people to kiss, punk, let the fella adjust a little.” 

It was the fact that Bucky was affronted on his behalf that made Tony dart forward and press a kiss to the corner of Bucky's mouth, just like Steve had done to him. And just like that kiss they bent towards each other slowly until their lips met again and they kissed for real. Kissing Bucky was totally different from kissing Steve. Bucky's kiss was soft, tentative, like he wasn't sure he was even allowed to, his beard scratching Tony's skin and his long hair tickling where it brushed his neck. 

“Damn, that's hot.”

They broke apart to smile at each other bashfully, and Bucky reached out to pull Steve off balance and into his lap.

“I have the best ideas,” Steve beamed up at them, grinning like the cat that got the canary. 

“Yeah, yeah, man with a plan, you are,” Bucky groused and pushed Steve on top of Tony to get up with a groan. “Next time we'll use the sofa, my knees are too old for this.”

“You're not  _ that _ old, gramps,” Steve countered, winking at Tony, “you always were stiff as a board.”

“Get your ass off the floor Rogers and help me make a nice meal for our boy.”

  
  
  


Nothing changed. Not really. Not on the outside. Tony and Bucky still worked together like clockwork, exchanging quips and quotes and not quite insults. They still watched the Saturday match on Bucky's too small tv, they still held movie marathons where they tried to out-quote each other. Tony and Steve still went out dancing together, admired by other men but never taking them up on an offer. But when they came home it was to Bucky waiting for them, his eyes hungry and kissing them everywhere, like he needed to re stake his claim. Movie nights were spent piled up against each other in a tangle of limbs, and whenever Bucky got home from a session at the VA Tony or Steve, or both, were waiting for him with a hug and a beer, ready to listen or distract. 

It wasn't perfect, but it was good, and it was so much more than Tony had ever thought he could have. 

It was a home.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a labour of love, so please let me know what you think or join us on the 16+ [ Stuckony discord server ](https://discord.gg/jtXcc3n) for all things Tony, Bucky and Steve!


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